Stolen Lives
by Kirsti-Lee
Summary: AU Voldemort attacks the Potters one day after he was going to, leaving time for the Weasley family to be killed. Will Ron become the next Darklord? Why does he blame Harry for the murder of his family?
1. Bad Beginnings

Albus surveyed the damage with a sinking heart. The Burrow, a place usually filled with the lively hustle and bustle of a young wizarding family was completely decimated. Three mediwizards stood to one side, nursing a baby boy and his two older brothers. Fred and George Weasley, twins, and baby brother Ronald were the only family members to survive the Darklord's latest attack. The Weasleys were prominent members of wizarding society, as well as being highly prolific. That, combined with the fact that were pureblood, would have ordinarily have protected them from Voldemort's wrath, but a few weeks earlier they had publicly announced their support of Dumbledore and of the light side. Now Molly and Arthur were gone, along with their sons Bill, Charlie and Percy. Another five lives lost in Voldemort's attempts to rid the wizarding world of filth.

"Albus!…" Minerva McGonagal, the Transfiguration teacher at Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry, had apparated behind the elderly man.

"Ah, Minerva…" started Albus sombrely, turning to face her.

She had been a close friend and mentor to both of the young Weasley adults and would have taught their children in a few years.

"There's been an attack," Minerva stated bluntly, cutting off Albus.

"Yes, I know…"Albus waved his hand to indicate the smouldering ruins behind him.

"No, not here, The Potters they're gone…Peter Pettigrew is dead, and so, apparently, is he-who-must-not-be-named!" shrieked Minerva.

As she finished her sentence, owls started appearing from all directions, some dropping letters for them both.

"How did this happen, Minerva? How did Tom find out where they were?" Dumbledore demanded of the witch.

Shaking his aged head, he prepared to leave.

"Minerva, see that these children are sent to the proper facilities, I must find out what has happened!"

With a loud crack he was gone, and Minerva turned to glance at the young children standing with the mediwizards.

_They'll be fine _she reassured herself _they would see to it that the children find a nice home._

But they weren't sent to a nice home. The place that the three young boys were sent to could not be considered nice by anyone's standards, and it is with this terrible injustice that the story of the true Darklord really begins. From that time on, the wizarding world was to never be the same again.

The tiny baby was tearfully passed from hand to hand. Sirius Black, the godfather and newly named Guardian to the small boy, had left the room, too overcome with grief to acknowledge his best friends' son at that time. Remus Lupin, visibly shaking, was holding the bundle as if Harry was made of precious china instead of flesh and blood. In a dark corner stood Severus Snape, and although no one could see it, tears were swimming in his eyes also.

The Potter's funeral would be held in a few days time; until then, as the wizarding world celebrated the downfall of a Darklord, those who knew Lily and James best would be in mourning, comforted by the fact that although they were gone, a small piece of them would live in the baby they had loved so much.

In another part of the world, another small baby was being held, but not in so loving or gentle a manner. No one knew this child's name; no one cared to either. A tiny blanket with his initials, "RW" covered his body. All around him babies screamed and cried; some were covered in festering wounds, others simply couldn't stand pain of hunger any longer. Whatever had happened to the warm presences around him? Where was his bottle of milk? His arguing siblings? His beautiful mother with her twinkling smile? His excitable father? Gone, gone because of one decision. Gone because their saviour was one day too late. Gone, and never coming back.

As his friends sat together and shared their grief, Sirius Black was alone, mourning James. They'd been friends since the first train ride to Hogwarts; James' parents had been replacements to his own horrible family. Voldemort had taken so much from him, but had left him with Harry. Harry who would always know love. Harry who would never be forgotten, never know pain or disappointment. Sirius was determined that Harry would follow in his footsteps. The Marauders weren't gone yet.


	2. Chapter 2

The small boy's mouth puckered up into a grimace as Sirius gently held him over the water. Beside him, Remus Lupin was anxiously hovering over his shoulder.

"Maybe the water's too hot…or too cold….Are you sure that's how you hold a baby, Sirius? Maybe he's hungry….or thirsty…." Remus prattled on.

"YES, Remus, I watched Lily do this hundreds of times, I know what I'm doing!" Sirius said, grinning as the man became more and more flustered.

"Maybe there's a book on the subject…yes of course there would be…do you think there's a book on parenting, Padfoot?" Remus' pallid complexion was turning redder and redder as he spoke, wildly waving his hands in the air.

"It's done, Remus," Sirius smiled, handing a clean, dressed and sweet smelling Harry to the werewolf.

"Oh, how…nice," Remus grinned back at him. "It's a good thing I knew what I was doing,"

Elsewhere, another baby boy was in desperate need of a bath, but one was not forthcoming. The smell of putrid waste filtered out to the nearby street, but the manager of the orphanage, a Mr Ferrego, claimed that the stench was caused by a backlog in the pipes. Ronald, so used to high hygiene and clean living conditions was not handling his new situation well. His eyes were encrusted with filmy yellowing gunk, and fleas bred rapidly in his thin hair, causing his tiny body to break out in red bites. Faeces, both fresh and old, clung to his body and to his sheets, but there was no one to come and love the tiny boy.

'Ferrego institute for Orphaned Children' was not a very nice place, and to live within its dull brick walls could not be called nice either. Children stayed up until the age of 18, when they were sent to find work out in the 'real' world. However, very few managed to survive up to that age, and the institute had the highest death rate of all the orphanages in Britain.

Fred and George warily eyed Mr Ferrego, who leered luridly back.

"Now, I want you both to forget your last name. Your family is gone, dead, and there's no one to come and help you. Your best chances of surviving this place are to act like your other life never existed," he stated bluntly, scratching down their names on the files as he spoke.

"But they did too exist!" burst out Fred suddenly, as George nodded beside him.

A sharp _snap _echoed through the room, as the quill Mr Ferrego held snapped in half.

"This matter will be discussed no further! You will be called by your number until you are adopted into a loving," he coughed as he said that word. "Family,"

George looked ready to retort, but a sharp jab in the ribs stopped him. His twin was shaking his head.

'Later,' he mouthed.

"Yes, sir," sighed George.

"You may go, 193, and you also 194, see to it that you don't bring any attention to yourself in the next few years boys…because you will not enjoy the consequences," Ferrego threatened in return.

"Please sir, our brother, Ron…?" asked Fred before they left the room.

"The baby didn't make it through the night. You would do well to forget him also,"

A solitary tear trailed down each twins face.

"Yes, sir," they whispered in unison.

"Oh, and one more thing, the potions, by the door, drink one each before sleeping tonight. I will know if you disobey my orders. That will be all,"

"Psst, Fred," hissed George to his brother, who was about to clamber into the neighbouring bed.

"I managed to swipe this. I think…I think that potion will make us forget who we are. We can't forget, Fred, mummy wouldn't want us to, I know it. Daddy taught us letters last year, let's write down our names so we never, ever forget!" he said all this in a rush, realising they didn't have much time before Ferrego would realise they hadn't taken their potions yet.

"We'll keep them inside here, ok?" George motioned the small teddy bears he and his brother had smuggled in.

"Ok," replied Fred, starting to scrawl in childish writing on the paper George had stolen.

The twins hastily stuffed the bear with the two pieces of paper, before stuffing them under their pillows.

"Goodbye, Fred," said George sadly.

"Goodbye, George," his twin replied.

Orphans number 193 and 194 quickly settled into their new lives quickly, but certainly not quietly. The two were known as troublemakers from the start, although the first incident was simply not their fault. A big, Bulky boy of their age called Montague tripped Fred as he was walking back with his breakfast tray on the very first morning. Now, he was not too upset at losing his food (If grey lumps covered in a peculiar fuzz could be called 'food') but unfortunately it landed on an angry looking woman who introduced herself as Mrs Ferrego. It was not long before the twins learnt that threats from her husband weren't just idle threats.

"It hurts, 193," moaned Fred, nursing his arm to his chest.

His arm burned like fire, and he felt certain that if Ferrego had continued to torture him at the rate he had been going, that it would definitely be broken by now. His brother simply nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Blood had caked over his eyes and ribs, and his ribs were definitely broken.

"Someone's coming!" hissed Fred as footsteps neared the door.

"You two, 193, and 194. Mr Ferrego wishes to see you," a severe looking woman with icy blue eyes glared down at the two small huddles.

"I suppose he's made it so you can't walk, eh?" she waved her wand and the two boys were healed.

"Well, come on, hurry up. It's not every day that a couple comes in looking for twins,"

Fred and George hastened to obey.

"Ah, here are the two little scamps now!" exclaimed Mr Ferrego as Fred and George walked into the room. His eyes were twinkling, and although he was smiling, the twins alone knew the menace behind that smile. A woman with long chestnut hair turned to them, her green eyes lighting up as she appraised their appearance. They were dressed in identical brown pants, and green sweaters, clutching one another's hands for comfort. Her husband too turned to look at the boys. His hair was the colour of wet sand, and he had a ready smile and a deep booming laugh.

"Oh, but they're adorable," the woman stood and quickly crossed the room to get closer to them.

"Mandy would just LOVE two older brothers, they're perfect! What are your names?" she spoke quickly, sounding excited.

Fred and George stared at each other, bewildered. They had expected to always live in the orphanage; their real parents were dark blurs in their memories.

"Ah, Mrs Brocklehurst, we do not name out children here, they simply answer to numbers," The pair looked surprised as Mr Ferrego explained his filing system to them.

"It simply makes it easier for adoptive parents to find names for their new children," the horrible grin never left his face.

"Oh, oh I see," said the woman. "How soon can we sign the papers?"

"Well, right away of course, 193 and 194-" Mr Ferrego failed to notice the couple flinch. "Can go home with you right away,"

"Yes, we'd like to do that now then," replied the man.

Before the Brocklehursts left with their new children, Mr Ferrego asked to speak with 193 and 194 one final time.

"Drink," he ordered, thrusting more potions into their hands. "This will make you forget the events of recent days. Now get out of my sight, you're lucky I even allowed this couple to interview you,"

The twins quickly left the room, both gently touching their pockets to ensure their bears were safe. They could not remember WHY the bears had to be with them at all times, or why they were so significant. All they knew was that, deep in their hearts, those bears were the most important thing in the world, and they would never lose them.

So, after a few short days in the orphanage, Fred and George were free. Of course, they had to take their new parents last names, as well as receiving new first names. Karin and Tregryve named their new sons Steve Brocklehurst, and Andre Brocklehurst. Unbeknownst to them, faraway, in Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the names 'Fred and George Weasley' were erased from the school records, to be replaced by their new ones. And unbeknownst to them, back at 'Ferrego institute for Orphaned Children' a young boy called Ronald Weasley had been left behind.


	3. Chapter 3

Harry pulled himself up on short, chubby legs.

"Oh look, Siri, he's walking, he's walking," Remus bubbled, catching the raven-haired man's attention.

Sirius quickly whipped out his new wizarding camera, entranced by his adopted sons movement.

"I wish Lily and James could have been here to see this," murmured Remus sadly, as the boy clutched his pant leg and smiled up at him.

Sirius moved to sit next to the sandy haired man, an arm hanging loosely over his shoulder.

"Come on, let's take a photo of us an Harry. He may not have Lily and James anymore, but he'll never lose our love even if he's….even if he's a Slytherin!" he joked.

The camera hovered in front of them, flashing a white light and capturing the paternal guardians feeling for Harry Potter

Muscles that were weak and barely developed from lack of food were not the best things for a growing baby to possess. Ronald Weasley, weak from starvation and illness had however pulled himself to his feet.

"Garn, look at that, Cindy, 203's standin' up all by hisself. He's just abou' ready ta get in wiv the other lot," commented a stringy haired woman.

Janice was in charge of all the infants, and it was her call as to when a child was ready to go and work with the older orphans. Ronald, nearing three, had only just shown signs of walking.

"Well Miss, there's a lot of work ter be done; more n more of 'em are dyen' nowadays. Send him out wiv the rest to the gardens tomorra," Janice replied. Ronald's troubles were just beginning.

"Oi, 22, we got ourselfs fresh meat," snickered a small boy who looked to be about 10, but due to a lack of nutrition, he was probably closer to twelve. 22, aged 16, and his younger brother 23 ruled the roost at Ferrego's orphanage. They had formed a gang made up of the stronger children, and had even allied themselves with some of the staff. For information about other children, Mr Ferrego himself would give them food- real food, and they were never as badly treated as the rest. They still bore the marks of Ferrego's frequent tempers, but they could have been treated much worse. For instance, a young girl (89) could barely move let alone work, and yet she was expected to play her part just like the rest. She had not tidied up her small bedroom to Mrs Ferrego's standards, and had not been seen for a few weeks. When she returned she was the shadow of the laughing child she had been. Ferrego's orphanage tended to have that effect on its audiences. A small spade was thrust into his hands. Ronald stared at, before stabbing it roughly into the ground, and beginning work. The two boys grinned maliciously at one another; this was going to be fun.

The next few days began to settle into a pattern for orphan number 203. He woke up, tidied his small bedspace, was attacked and bullied by 22 and 23, worked until dinner, was tormented some more, and went to sleep, bleeding and hungry. Everyday, the same. His hands were a bloodied, pus-filled mess, his tiny body gaunt. Eyes bulged out of his shrunken and misshapen head, glaring at anything or anyone he saw. Devoid of love, of attention, of friends, Ronald was callous and cruel. While outside, he found a matchbox. He would catch flies, rip off their legs and leave them inside it until they were dying. Often, he would place them in spider webs just to watch them struggle. Every time he did, he pictured 22 and 23 enjoying the same fate.

"Aren't you going to say anything, pipsqueak?' 22 pushed Ron up against a wall.

Ron stared at him with unfathomable eyes.

"Come on, or maybe you like a bit of pain, eh? You freak!" 23 joined in on the taunting, as the other children entered the room.

"He's funny looking!" shrieked a 9-year-old girl with dirty blonde hair.

They crowded around him, chanting, throwing insults.

Still, Ron didn't say a word. He glared at his tormentors, eyes filled with fury.

22 stopped, staring at him in confusion. What was happening? His hand was on fire!

Throwing himself backwards, his mouth open in a gut-wrenching scream. All around him children were running, trying to escape. His younger brother was lying on the ground, flames eating his body. The two boys screams mingled until they were just a pile of ash on the floor. Mr Ferrego was at the door, staring numbly at the two piles. Still, Ron didn't say a word. He had performed his first piece of magic on his third birthday.

Harry's first piece of magic however, was wildly different. When he was four, Harry accidentally levitated a nearby quill when he wanted Remus' attention.

"Da Remus," Harry smiled at the kindly werewolf. "Wanna play?"

"Of course, Harry, just let me finish up and get my quill off the ceiling," he smiled back at the small boy, noticing Sirius behind them with his much-used camera, snapping madly. Every precious moment, each shared hug, had been captured to fill up photo albums. They had to be careful, of course, that no other witches and wizards intruded on their sanctuary to 'thank' Harry Potter for saving the wizarding world. He had no idea of his significance and the two men planned to keep it that way until he was old enough to deal with it all. Harry was a healthy and happy four year old, he wanted nothing. He wasn't spoiled of course, but he was happy which was more important in the end.

Kevin Packer was sick. Not physically of course, but mentally, he was very ill indeed. By society's standards, he was a pervert and a child molester, and he had just heard of an orphanage that didn't do background checks into their potential adopters. He was going to be like a kid in a candy store, except the items for sale this time weren't candy.


End file.
